A Festive Treat

by Serenity Woods

  A Festive Treat

  Treats to Tempt You Book 5

  By Serenity Woods

  *

  Copyright 2014 Serenity Woods

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is coincidental.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A Sneak Peek at A Secret Between Friends (#6)

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  Author’s Note

  Treats to Tempt You

  Treats to Tempt You Bundle

  Other Books by Serenity Woods

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Got a joke for you,” Maisey said to her sister. “An Aussie kiss is similar to a French kiss, only it’s given Down Under.”

  Skye Graham paused with the coffee cup halfway to her lips.

  Maisey scratched her nose. “I didn’t say it was a good joke.”

  “If you had, I would have accused you of misrepresentation.” Skye finished off her coffee. It was nowhere near as good as the lattes from Treats to Tempt You, the chocolate and coffee shop Maisey had set up with three of her friends. She half wished she’d chosen the fresh orange juice from the stall opposite instead.

  “I’m trying to cheer you up. You need to smile at potential customers instead of glaring at them.”

  “I am smiling.” Skye curved up her lips and pointed to her fake grin. “See?”

  “That’s just scary. I’ve changed my mind. Go back to glaring.”

  Skye rolled her eyes and stood to serve another customer.

  It was the last day in November and not officially summer yet in New Zealand, but in the sub-tropical Northland the weather was already hot and sultry. Everyone at the Farmers’ Market wore T-shirts and shorts or summer dresses, and there were lots of tourists with cameras, sun hats, and pale skin lavished with sun lotion to protect against the harsh Kiwi sun.

  The customer moved on with her purchase of a box of mint crèmes, and Skye sat back on the stool. “So what do you think of the market? Are you glad you came?”

  “Absolutely.” Maisey was counting through the morning’s takings, and the look of pleasure on her features told Skye the profits had made this experiment worthwhile. “I’ll definitely bring more sample truffles next time—I had nowhere near enough.”

  “Isn’t that counter-constructive? Aren’t you losing cash when you’re giving away freebies?”

  “Doesn’t work like that.” Maisey flipped an elastic band around a stack of notes. “Speculate to accumulate, you know? Most customers will only try one or two truffles but they often go on to buy several boxes, so it’s worth it.”

  Skye nodded, impressed at Maisey’s business acumen. She’d never have thought her flighty sister would be able to run a shop. Maisey had always been a girlie girl, young at heart and with her head in the clouds. The last time Skye had seen her, two years ago, she’d showed no signs of growing up or settling down. But now Maisey was engaged to Joss and running the successful Treats, and although she was still cheeky and irreverent, the serious, more mature side she’d always kept buried had risen to the surface.

  A couple of tourists approached the stall, and Skye rose to help them. Although Maisey had teased that she never smiled, she’d worked as a waitress and in bars while living in Europe, so she wasn’t unfamiliar with the service industry.

  They bought a box of lemon truffles and some of Maisey’s new tiny kiwifruit chocolates, and went away, fingers fumbling at the box lid so they could try them out.

  Skye checked her watch. “It’s a good job it’s nearly twelve. You don’t have much stock left.”

  “No, it’s been a great morning.” Maisey hugged her big sister. “Thank you so much for coming with me. It’s been lovely to spend some time with you.”

  “It’s nice to be here.” Skye returned the hug before letting her go and sitting back on the stool.

  “It’s not a drag?” Maisey’s face showed no resentment, only concern as she sat opposite her. “I know you didn’t want to come back.”

  “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to come. It’s lovely to see everyone. And it’s better this time.”

  Her previous visit had been a disaster. She meant to stay for a few months, but hadn’t told anyone about her return ticket to France, and they’d all assumed she was back to stay. Her mother had been distraught when she’d found out and the rest of the family had been angry, and Skye had found the atmosphere so difficult that she’d left after a few weeks.

  She’d thought her mother would still resent her for it, and she’d also expected to struggle being back in New Zealand again, but for some reason this time had been different. For one thing, she’d been open about it not being permanent, and they all knew she was due to leave in February. Her mother had been more relaxed because of that, and had merely been grateful to see her eldest daughter.

  Also, something had changed within Skye. She recognized it now as she hadn’t while she was in Europe. Time dilutes grief, she thought as she tipped her face up to the sun. It was five years since her brother Harry had died in a motorbike accident, and the sorrow that had continued to be unbearable two years ago had dulled to a melancholy that lingered like the smell of smoke long after a raging fire had been extinguished.

  “You’ve changed,” Maisey said as if confirming her thoughts.

  “In a good way?”

  Maisey tipped her head, studying her. “You’re not as angry as you were. Two years ago, you were angry at everything—at Mum and Dad, at me and Kole, at New Zealand…even at Harry. Now, you just seem…sad.”

  “I don’t feel sad,” Skye said truthfully. “I’m glad to be back. Maybe it’s because so much has changed. Last time, everything seemed the same as when Harry died and I found it so frustrating, but now it’s all different. You have Treats, and Kole’s doing well with his photography business. Plus, you’re all getting hitched! It’s so weird. I can’t believe Kole will be married in three weeks’ time. I never thought he’d settle down, and certainly never with Tasha.”

  Maisey waved a hand. “They’ve always liked each other. But you’re right—we’ve all grown up over the last few years.”

  “And look at you, getting married soon, too.” Skye grinned. “Being all working woman and loving doctor’s fiancée. Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “I’m very respectable now,” Maisey said, her face serious. Then they both burst out laughing.

  S
kye reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand. “I’m so pleased for you. Joss is a lovely guy, and he’s clearly crazy about you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Maisey’s cheeks flushed. “Come on, enough about me. I want to hear more about you. Do you have a guy in every port?”

  “You know I’m not in the Navy, right?”

  “I meant have you fallen in love in every city, leaving behind a string of broken hearts? Or is there a special someone?”

  Skye hesitated and looked away across the market. It would be difficult to describe her life to her sister. Although Maisey suffered from depression and it had obviously played a part in the way she’d changed over the last few years, she was used to having her family and friends around her, and calling on others if she needed help.

  Skye didn’t resent her for it—her own exile was self-imposed, after all. But Maisey wouldn’t understand the way she’d developed a tough outer shell to hide her vulnerable chewy center. Afraid to put down roots, to open herself up to being hurt again, Skye had rarely stayed longer than six months in a city. If she did make friendships, they weren’t long-lasting, and she didn’t stay in touch. She’d met plenty of guys, slept with them occasionally, even dated for a while if they were light-hearted about it, but as soon as it looked as if they were interested in anything serious, she moved on.

  Matt had been the only one who’d lasted more than a year. She’d been crazy about him, and he’d been instrumental in helping her over some of the worst times, but in the end he’d betrayed her too, and her heart still bore the scars.

  “No,” she said in answer to Maisey’s question. “No special someone.”

  “Do you want to settle down at all? Have kids?” Maisey’s hazel eyes were wide and guileless.

  “I don’t know. I doubt I’ll ever get to that point. I don’t think that life’s for me, Maisey. And that’s okay. I have my painting, and I enjoy travelling. I don’t worry about tomorrow. I just think about today.”

  Maisey nodded. Her eyes twinkled. “Fair enough. Anyway, who knows, you might meet someone while you’re here who’ll entice you to stay.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Unbidden, a memory arose of a pair of blue eyes and a curling tattoo around a muscular arm. Owen. She’d met him on the plane up from Auckland a few weeks before. He was a dog handler for Search and Rescue, a beach bum-lookalike who adored classical music. He might have enticed me to think about staying, given half the chance.

  “Your eyes have glazed over,” Maisey said. “Who are you thinking about?”

  “Prince William. I’m next in line if it doesn’t work out with Kate.” Skye beckoned to her sister. “Give me your coffee cup, and I’ll throw them away.”

  She rose from her stool and walked over to dump them in the bin. She was glad the market had worked out for Maisey. It had been a fun morning. With only three weeks left until Christmas, everyone was in a good mood, busy buying presents and ingredients for homemade mincemeat and other recipes. Skye had grown used to the colder weather as well as the increased commercialization at Christmastime in Europe. She’d forgotten how the New Zealand festive season involved relaxed family gatherings around the pool and on the beach, the stress and ceremony tending to be more low key than in the northern hemisphere. It would make a change this year—she was rather looking forward to it.

  As she turned back to Maisey’s stall, her gaze fell on a customer standing there. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had longish brown hair, tousled as if he’d just got out of bed. He wore old jeans, a faded orange T-shirt with the words “Sweet as” across it in white, and tatty grey Converses. A chocolate-colored Labrador sat by his side, panting in the warm weather.

  The man was talking to Maisey, but watching Skye. Her feet slowed, and she came to a halt as she focused on his face. For a brief moment, she thought she’d conjured him up—she’d literally just been thinking about him, for crying out loud. But as their eyes met, he smiled, and she realized it wasn’t a dream.

  “Hello, Skye with an ‘e’.” He grinned.

  Her heart raced, and she had trouble catching her breath as she covered the last few feet to stand in front of him. Exhale, she commanded herself. Fainting was only appropriate in Edwardian England when women had worn corsets.

  She blew out a slow breath. “Owen.”

  His face lit with pleasure. “You remember me.”

  “Of course I remember you.” She held out a hand, and he grasped it with his own. His skin was warm, his arm deeply tanned, the gorgeous black tattoo curling from under the sleeve of his T-shirt to circle his upper arm. He tightened his grip on her hand before he released it.

  Maisey looked from him to Skye and back again. “You two know each other?”

  “We met on the plane,” he explained. “I ogled her, she patronized me… It was a match made in heaven.”

  Maisey laughed, and he held out a hand to her. “I’m Owen.”

  “Maisey.” She shook his hand. “I’m Skye’s baby sister.”

  “I can see the family resemblance.” His gaze came back to Skye. She looked into his eyes, the color of the Northland summer sky, and every single thought went out of her head except Wow.

  Glancing at her sister, she caught the rise of Maisey’s eyebrows and dropped her gaze to the dog who had stood to sniff her hand. “This must be Mozart.” She dropped to her haunches and greeted the Lab, ruffling his ears.

  “What a great name for a dog,” Maisey said. “And a chocolate Lab! My favorite. He’s gorgeous, isn’t he, Skye?”

  Skye glanced up. Maisey’s eyes were twinkling—she wasn’t referring to the Lab. Skye ignored her and spoke to Owen. “He’s a Search and Rescue dog, isn’t he?”

  “He is. When he’s not knocking over vases on tables and chewing my shoes.” Owen’s affectionate pat on Mozart’s head revealed he wasn’t angry about the dog’s mischievous nature.

  Skye pushed herself up. “What are you doing in Kerikeri?”

  “I live here. I moved up from Wellington last year. They asked me to set up a Search and Rescue center in the Far North as there wasn’t one at the time.” He clicked his fingers as Mozart wandered to the end of his leash to inspect a passer-by, and the Lab came back and sat obediently by his side.

  Maisey had turned to start putting her chocolates in the back of her car, giving them a semblance of privacy, but Skye knew she’d get a grilling later.

  Tongue-tied, she nibbled her bottom lip, half-embarrassed he was lingering, half-wanting him to stay. He seemed happy to dawdle, and appeared to be enjoying observing her, his eyes warm.

  “Do people go missing often?” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

  “You’d be surprised. It’s usually tourists who’ve wandered off the beaten track. There are lots of walks advertised in the bush, but it’s easy to become disoriented, and people don’t always realize how quickly darkness sets in up here.”

  That was true—Skye had noticed how there wasn’t a long period of twilight between the sun setting and it being pitch black the way there was in England.

  Maisey rolled up the pretty festive paper she’d used to cover the table and put it in the car, then concentrated on making sure the boxes were packed tightly so they wouldn’t slide around.

  Skye cleared her throat and smiled at Owen. “Well, it’s lovely to see you again. I hope you have a nice Christmas.”

  “Actually…” His lips curved. “I saw you a while ago, but I’ve been waiting for you to finish. I wondered if you’d both like to go for a coffee or a cold drink? You’ve been working hard and deserve a reward.”

  “Oh, thanks, but I can’t.” Maisey closed the car door. “I have to get back. But Skye’s not busy, and she has her own car here. Why don’t the two of you catch up?”

  Skye glared at Maisey, who grinned impishly. “I’m sure Mum needs us for something,” Skye said, nervous about seeing Owen alone.

  “No, it’s okay, I’ll tell her you’ll be back later.” M
aisey winked at her and held out her hand to a smiling Owen. “Lovely to meet you.”

  “And you, Maisey.”

  “See you later, sis.” Maisey got in the car and, as Skye watched helplessly, headed toward the main road.

  Chapter Two

  Owen watched with amusement as Maisey drove away, leaving the woman beside him staring at the disappearing car, open-mouthed with a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment.

  Finally, Skye turned back to him.

  “Abandoned,” he said. “How rude.”

  Her mouth twitched, but didn’t develop into a smile. She didn’t smile much at all, even though she appeared to have a sense of humor. Her serious face suggested she tried hard not to reveal what she was thinking, but she obviously wasn’t aware her eyes gave her away. A beautiful hazel, framed by dark lashes, they were extremely expressive, and laughter shimmered in their depths.

  He’d first spotted her at Auckland airport, a few weeks before. He’d flown to the city to meet up with the head of the Northland branch of Search and Rescue, and he’d stayed overnight, returning early the following morning. He’d seen her as soon as he’d reached the gate. She’d been standing by the window, looking down at the tarmac, the side of her head resting against the glass. She’d actually taken his breath away, which was something he’d thought only happened in romantic movies. Wearing a long white dress with a drawstring neckline, her dark hair pinned up in a haphazard fashion so untidy strands tumbled around her shoulders, she’d looked like the sculpture of a Greek goddess, Hebe, maybe, the daughter of Zeus and Hera, the goddess of youth. She was slender rather than thin, but there was something ethereal and insubstantial about her, as if a puff of wind would have blown her clean away.

  He’d taken a seat nearby so he could watch her, and had been thrilled when he’d boarded the plane to find her in the seat next to him. She’d captivated him with her dry wit and intelligent conversation, as well as her smooth skin, curvy figure, and stunning smile when it eventually made an appearance. Unfortunately, when he’d asked if he could see her again, she’d refused, although they’d exchanged a parting glance as she’d gotten in the car that had told him the attraction he felt toward her was mutual. Since then, he’d dreamt about her several times and had been unable to get her out of his head, but she’d not revealed where she was staying, so he hadn’t been able to go looking for her. When he’d walked into the Farmers’ Market and seen her working at one of the stalls, it had been like his birthday and Christmas rolled into one.